thebucketlist: justindrewbieber
by spideey-man.xx
Summary: Two best friends thought to be inseperable are attempting to accomplish a bucketlist together, forgetting about the unavoidable fame that seems to follow him everywhere. When the girl shares her secrets, little does she know it's the biggest mistake.
1. Chapter 1

The Bucketlist; Justin Drew Bieber.

_Dear Diary,_

_ I've finally finished it. And, by "it", I mean my bucketlist that Justin and I promised that we'd complete together. I'm actually really excited to see how it's going to turn out - and if we actually do all the listed things, before Justin's 18th birthday._

_ So we have 327 days to do this. _

_ Thank God I only have 25 things._

_ I put losing my virginity second last, and telling Justin that I love him- _

Reem paused, and stopped writing, dropping her pen on the journal paper and leaving an ink blotch on the skinny blue lines. She shook her head, and ran her fingers through her long purple bangs that were in desperate need of a cut trim. She closed the black leather binded diary, and roughly shoved it into the wicker drawer beside her bed.

I really need to put an end to this crush, Reem clarified, her head already swarming with images of the teen heartthrob that also happened to be her best friend; Justin Bieber.

It was too late, as Reemie was already engulfed in Justin-related memories and paranoia that would only bring more pain and misery later.

Reem and Justin had become best friends when the two Canadians moved to Atlanta, Georgia to improve their quality of life. Justin for his music career, and Reem for her father's job. Little did they know, they'd both get acquainted through just merely finding their way around and through the massive city.

"Oh, my God! Is that who I think it is?" Marnie exclaimed as her and Reem were casually strolling down the sidewalk, arm in arm, admiring the less crowded streets of a less popular area of town. Reem's mom was following behind, pretending to be completely unaware of where the girl's were headed, like the good mother she was.

"Big whoop, whoever it is," Reem replied, uninterested. absentmindedly twirling a piece of hair around her finger.

"Justin... Bieber!" Marnie gasped breathlessly, immediately breaking into a run and tugging on Reem's forearm. "Let's go see him, quick!"

"For what? So he can sign our tits?" Reem said sarcastically, grumbling the entire time as Marnie dragged her along.

Not even thirty seconds later, Reem and Marnie were accompanied by a dozen other bystanders (all girls) who had surrounded the celebrity. All of the girl's voices were muffled screams as Reem tuned them out, and Justin signed their memoralibilia.

Sooner than later, Marnie was smiling so wide, it appeared that her face would crack in half, and was nearly on the verge of hyperventilating. She greeted Mr. Bieber excitedly and propped her left arm out in front of her, and Justin quickly signed it with a sharpie marker.

_Jeez, could this get any worse?_ Reem thought, arms crossed against her chest.

"Hello, pretty ladies," he smiled sweetly, his focus now on Reem. "How are you today?" The question was directed at her.

Reem couldn't help notice the way the sun reflected and made his eyes sparkle. She gazed dreamily at him, probably looking starstruck and pitiful, like all the overly-obsessed girls that followed this dreamboat. _Snap out of it, he's just an ordinary person_, Reem scolded herself.

"I'm doing great, and yourself?" She answered politely.

"Fine, thanks," Justin chuckled, noticing her dreamlike state. He shrugged it off, thinking she was cute. "Do you want me to sign anything?"

Reem smirked playfully, glancing smugly at Marnie before moving her hand up to the neckline of her Misfits band t-shirt. She checked the expressions of everyone around her, they were all wide-eyed, so she continued. Reem casually yanked down her shirt, pulling it down far enough just to show a tiny bit of cleavage. Justin's eyes widened, but he relaxed just as fast by raising his eyebrows and returing an almost sexy smile.

He moved forwards, ready to sign her left breast, but was interrupted by Marnie, "You know she was just kidding, right?" Her face was plastered with jealousy and betrayal.

Reem snapped back instantly, "That's what makes it funny, Marnie."

Justin shrugged, pulled of the marker lid and signed his initials, along with a few other things that Reem couldn't read directly. After about a minute, Justin backed away and smiled at his masterpiece. Reem let go of her shirt and it resumed it's usual form, high up against her neck. Justin then opened his arms for hugs, and Marnie jumped up instantaneously. She scowled at Reem, and rushed into his arms first, snagging a hug. They pulled apart from each other a few moments later, and that left Reem.

She carefully wrapped her arms around his neck, while his coiled around her little waist. Surprisingly, Reem got jittery butterflies and an embarrassingly increased heartbeat. Heat flooded her cheeks, making her blush uncontrollably. She was mortified at the fact of the possibility that maybe her heartbeat was loud enough for him to hear.

Regardless of the fact that Justin had limited time for friends, he liked this anonymous, nameless girl, and wanted the opportunity to get to know her. Once she had jokingly tugged the neckline down of her shirt, he guessed that she had a decent sense of humor. Maybe he would really like her.

Justin walked away, feeling satisfied at his little gathering that occurred back there. The girl with the purple streaks in her hair, with her bright blue eyes, fair skin... she drifted into his thoughts, and he responded by shaking his head at an attempt to clear away the images. The last thing he needed to worry about in his crazy life was most definitely not another girl.

Little did he know, she was going to become the most important person to him that he had, next to his Mom, of course.

Reem hopped off her bed and stood in front of the vanity that was situated in the corner of her room. She studied the bulbous, twinkly lights, the flat sheet of glass that reflected the muddled expression she wore of her face. Reem gently placed the pads of her fingers against her cheek, and the person staring back at her mirrored her movements. He cheek was soft as down. _Not as soft as Justin's face. __Gosh, I really need to stop being so __masochistin head over heels__ much like a lost puppy. _

"Maybe I should get it off my chest, and tell him how I really feel," Reem mumbled to herself, as she stared at her reflection and absentmindedly twirled more hair around her finger. She made a face at herself and stuck out her tongue. "NAH!"

Reem snatched her cellphone off the vanity table and danced out the door and in the hallway, being careful that she didn't fall down the stairs on her way to the large kitchen/dining room. Skittering and skipping across the linoleum floor, she made her way to the pantry and whipped open the door, shaking her hands and continuing to dance like it was the end of the world.

She placed her hand against her face, in mock shock, and sang out, "Now I think it's time to put this p**sy on your side burns!" Reem shook her hips and sang more of Nicki Minaj's lyrics in the song _Bedrock_.

*_Changing to first person perspective.*_

I waltzed into the pantry, searching for anything remotely close to the category "breakfast". A box of strawberry Special K looked promising, and magically appeared in my hand. I dug through the refridgerator only to find an unopened can of Coke (thankfully). I wiped the top off with a ratty dishcloth, and pulled back the tab. I always turn the tab sideways, as a little habit of mine. Plus, it sets my soda can apart from the rest.

I took my Coke and Special K with me as I padded into the living room, and set them on the varnished and stained coffe table before I pressed the power button on the television with my toe.

I plopped down onto the leather recliner, eyes fixed on the TV as pointless images flashed on the pixeled screen. _What should Reem do today? _I pondered cluelessly. Just as I was about to scoop a handful of cereal into my mouth, I heard my phone _buzzing _on the counter top. Regardless of who the person contacting me was, I leaped out of my seat and booked it to the kitchen, dodging stray articles of clothing in my way.

I accidentally rammed the edge of the island with my hipbone, and I could feel my face twist a little in response to the sharp ache. It went away quickly.

The caller ID on my BlackBerry screen said 'JBiebs'. I didn't hesitate one moment to press the green answer button.

"Hello?" I breathed excitedly into the reciever. I could see my chest pounding furiously up and down, and I heard the blood pulsing in my ears. I turned into a wreck with him.

"Whoa, someone's a little out of breath. What does Reem do in her spare time?" Justin teased.

"I almost killed myself to answer your phone call," I stretched the truth a bit, obviously.

"Yeah, I don't find that hard to believe knowing how messy your house can be."

Nonetheless, no matter how critical his comments could be, he never failed to make my stomach explode into a fit of excited flips.

"YOUR WELCOME," I said loudly.

Justin laughed again. "Soo.. I was wondering..." he continued, without missing a beat. "Since it's you're sixteenth birthday in two days.."

"Oh, my God. Nothing special. I'm turing sixteen, big whoop," I said.

"Oh, c'mon! Lighten up!" Justin exclaimed defensively. "I was just thinking..."

He was trailing off his sentences. He was definitely up to something.

"Go on..." I urged.

"Do you remember that bucketlist we created together?" Of course I remembered our bucketlist.

"The one that we cut our palms and held hands for, swearing that we'd finish it before our 18th birthdays both passed?"

"Yeah, that one. Did you add more to it?"

I couldn't decide whether or not he just being snoopy or sincerely curious, but I had to decide whether or not telling him the last three were all related to him, and solely him. It'd be a bad time to break the news to him. Not now, at least.

"Uh, no. Not that I can recall," I lied.

"Okay. So, here's my ingenius plan: since your turning 16 in two days, on the 12th we can possibly being our bucketlist?" He sounded so innocent.

How could I resist? Simple. I already see a million problems that could arise from this desire. It won't work. But it's also Justin Bieber, who happened to be my best friend and future husband.

Reluctantly, "Yeah, sounds great." My voice faltered. He noticed, undeniably.

"Doesn't sound too great, missy. If you don't want to-"

"No, no, no!" I cut him off abruptly, I was too much of a baby to hurt his feelings. "You know me, I just woke up," I included a fake laugh for his sake.

"Okay, lovely," Justin replied, falling face first for my little charade. "We'll talk more later, 'kay?"  
>I could literally hear the smile in his voice.<p>

Why does best friends have to hurt so much?

A moment passes before Justin breaks the stillness.

"Um, excuse me?" Worry clouded his tone. "What're you talking about?"

Did I seriously just voice my thoughts out loud? _AGAIN?_ To Justin Bieber, the person of all people I absolutely did not want to hear them, second to my parents? Especially to Justin; apparently so.

I racked my brain for dozens of decent excuses that I could feed to Justin, something that would be enough to feed to him, some big lie that he would swallow and not choke on. Hmmm.

"Me and Marnie aren't on the best term's right now. Long story."

"A long story that I'd like to hear," Justin said.

"Come over when you can, then."

"Now?" He laughed effortlessly. Another squeamish fit of butterflies errupted in my stomach.

"No, later," I corrected him.

"Fine, fine. Four-ish? I have a date at two," he noted non-chalantly.

A fresh stab of pain, like a serrated, rusty bread knife, sliced open my flesh, letting my insides spill out. I sucked in a deep breath, ignoring the stabs of jealously in my chest. "Oh, okay. See you later then."

"I'll tell Selena you said hi."

It was on impulse; I hung up without another word.

Ignore the jealousy.


	2. Chapter 2

No. 2 The Bucketlist; JustinDrewBieber

The right thing to do would be to call back and apologize as sincerely as I could manage. But, my heart definitely wasn't in the right place at the moment, otherwise, I'd most likely fly a banner across the bright blue sky that said in big, bold letters that I loved him and knew him more than I knew myself. He was perfection: such a dork, and regardless of his well-deserved fame, he always found the time to acknowledge our friendship. Justin promised that he would finish this whole project alongside me, yet he wasn't aware of some of the contents of that list.

I wasn't a good person though. I had one major problem that Justin wasn't and wouldn't be aware of. You have to keep those kind of secrets bottled up until you were absolutely positive that the other person was capable of understanding you, and more importantly, not leaving when you do confess.

So, you see, I wasn't exactly self-respecting enough to know how well I'd be able to cope if Justin and I's friendship was destroyed over my indisputable and irrevelant secrets. Knowing him though, he'd encourage me to take all the time I needed, and once I gathered up my courage and whatever was left of my dignity, he'd be the first to know. At least I could give him that, right?

Justin was the boy I finally came out to when I came to terms with myself that I was bisexual. Justin was the only person who knew about my Mother's affair, next to my Mother, my Dad and me. Hell, he's the boy who admires my so-called artistic talent!

_He's so going to hate me after all this goes down, _I thought to myself. The initial pain in my chest was bearable now, but I couldn't even begin to think of how broken I'd be if Justin ever left me in the dust, when he was jumping into that holly-jolly wagon with Selena Gomez with their awesome families, and then run off into the sunset holding hands to revel in their sheer awesomeness.

I could never compare to that.

After a few moments of undisturbed silence in my vacant house, I hopped off the bar stool I was sitting on, and sprinted upstairs to my bedroom and found my computer atop my oak desk, idly whirring in rhythm with the green battery light flashing repeatedly. I walked over and unplugged it from the wall, and had it underneath my arm like a football as I took it with me downstairs.

As I walked down the hallway, I passed the doorway of my main bathroom. Thoughts erractically spurred in my head, urging me to rid myself of the disgusting calories and my 'breakfast'. My heart picked up the pace, the way it always did before I cascaded myself upon the porcelain throne. Memories washed over my already-frozen body, leaving me scrambling for the surface in their wake. I carefully placed my laptop on the carpet outside the door, and without actually thinking about it, slowly marched to the toilet settled in the corner of the room. I collapsed onto my knees, my fingers already up to the second knuckle in my throat, touching the thing that makes you gag. Before I knew it, all the cereal and pop I had consumed earlier was finding it's way into the toilet in a jumbled, acid-tasting mess that made me throw up even harder.

Once I finished, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand, I flushed the discarded mess down the toilet and stared at my reflection in the mirror, I cringed at the sight of my shine-less hair, my transleucent skin, my frail body. I lifted up my over-sized night shirt, saw the almost ribs poking through my skin, dying to even fuller emerge. I saw the yellow bubbles of fat underneath, impatiently waiting for more calories to enter and force me to blow up, like a balloon. This is why I thanked my parents for one thing: all the exercise equipment they invested in, but collected dust no more, courtesy to my frequent usage.

I pulled my shirt back down, and continued to stare back into the lifeless blue eyes of my monstrous ego. She stared me down, throwing daggers at me, metaphorically. Suddenly, her small, full pink lips opened, flashing a perfect set of an off-shade white, mouthing cruel, pretty words.

Empty is strong. Empty is good.

j u s t i n

Selena stared at me with that wonderously, childlike face of hers. How did I get so lucky?

Back to reality, Reem hadn't answered any of my texts in the last ten minutes. I know, you're probably thinking, text? What the fuck is wrong with you? My answer for that would have to be I'm on a date. It'd be rude if I disrespected more than one person at one, which is exactly what's about to happen, unfortunately.

Selena interrupted my thoughts by getting up out of the booth, constantly looking over her shoulder, as if her interest was somewhere else. She glanced at me briefly, "I'll be right back, don't miss me too much," she announced. I was probably dazed and dumbfounded; she made leaving look so cute. A few moments passed as she waited for my response. I was totally caught up in her, but Reem was also on my mind at the same time. At the _wrong _time.

"Yeah, I'll try my best to manage," I smiled genially, looking up from the table to her brown eyes.

And she practically danced away from me, in the direction that I assumed was the restrooms, my eyes following her every move while my hands dug into my jean pocket (don't get any ideas) and found my phone. I checked for any responses from Reem, and of course there aren't any, knowing her. My fingers mechanically dialed her phone number.

One dial tone, two dial tones, three dial tones... I'm sure half a second until the fourth one would have rang, she answered.

"I was debating whether or not it'd be a good idea to let you go to voicemail," she said bluntly.

"Hello to you, too," I said flatly.

"How's your date?" She wondered, too cheerfully.

"Fan-fucking-tastic," I lowered my voice. "It just started. Why didn't you respond to my texts?"

"... I was puking," she confessed hesitantly.

That surprised me a little. She hardly ever got sick. All this girl did was eat healthy, take vitamins and work out until she couldn't walk the next day. "You sick, or something?"

"Er, yeah. I think so..." She answered, unsure.

I spotted Selena on her way back, and quickly pressed the _end _key, hanging up on Reem. I slipped my hands under the table, dropping my cellphone onto my lap.

"Why hello," I smiled sweetly at Selena as she sat herself down at the opposite side of the table.

She gave me a weird look, "Hey," and started eating her strawberry frozen yogurt.

"What's that look for," I said quizically.

She never answered me, so I began eating my frozen yogurt, casually looking around. My eyes wandered to the line-up of people, going through the faces to see anyone familiar. My eyes widened automatically. Of all people, there was Taylor Lautner standing third in line, smiling at me... or Selena.

"Hey, whatdoyaknow, Taylor's here," my words came out in a rush. I had to control my jealousy sometimes, I could tell that I was almost angry.

"Yeah, I was talking to him," she said non-chalantly, never lifting her gaze up to me.

"Oh." I should've known. Stupid, stupid, stupid me.

Now I know how Red feels.

r e e m

I opened my laptop on the kitchen counter, going to curiously read all of the Justin Bieber fanfiction stories. A majority of them were good, I had to admit. Much better than the ones that I concocted.

I scrolled down the pages, none of which listed stories particularly caught my eye. I kept scrolling aimlessly through web pages, I opened all the unread text messages from Justin. Upon the very last one, I typed out a response: _What was that for, sexpanther? _I addressed him using the adorable fan-made nickname. My phone buzzed in my hand about a minute later.

_Revenge is sweet, eh Red? _Red was the nickname he'd given me years and years ago.

An immediate idea sprouted in the back of my head. I strongly remembered that the first thing on our bucketlist was kiss a stranger. I typed in the URL address box and made a new text post signifying that I wanted to complete the no.1 thing on Justin and I's list (leaving out the Justin part.) I got 100 notes and 17 replies, saying that most of my followers were strangers. My plan was about to be put into action.

_You bet your starstruck, white ass it is. Kissin' a stranger today? ;) _I quickly texted him back.

Justin texted back five minutes later as people continued to click the little heart buttom on the right hand side of my post: _Bucketlist? _

Me: _Yeup. Be here in 30 mins. or miss out, big boy._

I smiled at the last text I got, and shameless butterflies fluttered around excitedly in my stomach. _Finally, we're starting this_, I thought.

_I'll be there, Red! Wouldn't miss it for the world. ;)_

"Better look good for the Biebs then," I said to nobody as I waltzed my way to the shower.

Exactly twenty four minutes later, I stood up from my vanity, my eyes decorated in volumous mascara and black liquid eyeliner. My hair was straightened and backcombed like I always did it. I brushed my hands on my white-ish Garage blouse, that I left unbuttoned so you could see my cream-colored tank top. I was wearing faded, white-wash jeans and my grey Toms.

I actually looked decent, but I refused to call myself cute. I was biting the inside of my lip, unsure of my clothing choice when the doorbell rang.

Twenty nine minutes: I raced down the stairs, jogging to the door. I regained my composure and tried to not look flustered and as excited as I really was, as I opened the door to none else. The boy that wasn't quite a man, the boy who could virtually make any girl drop everything just for him, and lastly, the boy who left me wishing it was he who woke up next to me in the morning, tangled in the sheets.

Capital H-i-m.


	3. Chapter 3

No. 3 The Bucketlist

Note: I'm behind in my story, mind my delayedness.

Technically, we were two days earlier than when our initial plan was originally supposed to begin. Everything was coming at me a little faster than appreciated, but I just couldn't get it through my head that we were actually starting this.

Justin wavered slightly in front of me, standing awkwardly between the door frame and him. It was unexpected; he closed the space alarmingly fast and enveloped me in one of his tight embraces. His arms were wrapped comfortably around my waist, and his cheek resting against my hair. This hug was different, as it didn't resemble the hugs he casually handed out to fans, every now and then. No, this was strange and uniquely pleasant, like the mostly-enriching action of cuddling after a long fight or kissing in the rain. To me, this was like being touched for the first time, even though I hadn't experienced any of those things, it was comforting to know that I meant something more than just a free, random hug.

It made my heart melt like chocolate in your pocket on a hot day. These good feelings feel awesome when your perpetually "stuck" in the moment, but once the high wears off, your left with one hell of a mess in your favorite jeans.

Justin pulled away from me all too quickly, cutting off my supply of an overly immersing, succulent dream. The hardcore truth of reality sank in deep, nibbling at the melted chocolate, attempting to create a crack in the glass box I had shielded myself with. The last thing I needed was pity from the people who forced me to weld this glass wall. Basically he was the blue-print guy and I was the carpenter, not naming any names, _Justin._

I tried keeping my expression forgiving and comforting, which was hard to accomplish since I knew that he was prepping himself for some kind of dashboard confessional.

He gathered himself, and looked at me with his honey brown eyes. "Can I talk to you about someone important to me? Or will you not be comfortable with that?" He asked formally and sincerely.

I hesitated a moment, giving myself time to word out exactly what I planned to say. "Justin, sit down," I began confidently, mirroring him as he sat down on the concrete steps. I shut the door, avoiding the opportunity my Dad would have to snap at me for finding a lone bug residing in our house. That was, if he ever left his first home(s) (the local bars) to come cherish his rueful daughter and his second house (our house.)

"My goal at the end of every day is to have helped someone or something out by putting their needs before mine. Who cares if I'm uncomfortable with what you have to say, we can deal with that later. You can ... vent, complain, get upset, cry on my shoulder, whatever you need to do! I'm here to listen, not judge, and if you value my honest opinion, I'll give you my honest opinion." I finished my micro-speech, feeling like I'd just run a marathon. I often used my hands to communicate a verdict or a point that I couldn't get across the first time around. In this case, both explanations were more or less accurate combined together.

I turned my head to look up at Justin, and was utterly suprised that he was smiling at me fondly, with one corner of his mouth turned up in a cute half-smile.

"Oh, my goodness, Red. That's one of the things I love most about you: you're a dreamy idealist with a self-less personality that only wants to make the world a better place for everyone," Justin commented, and clasped his hands together between his legs.

"I think that's the most descriptive, and _untrue_ sentence you've ever verbalized in your life," I said with a low chuckle, shoving him lightly.

"Very descriptive for the most part, but how is that untrue in any way?" Justin demanded.

"Everyone has difference outtakes on their personality. I'm too self-conscious and insecure to realize any positive qualities about myself, without bringing myself down in the process."

"If your confidence outshines your insecurites, you can do anything," Justin said simply.

My insides were turning inside out with happiness. "I thought this conversation was supposed to be about you?"

"It took a turn for the better."

"Ugh, Justin! Stop being charming," I said the last part softly, feeling embarrassed for saying something as idiotic as that.

"I'm not even trying! It all comes naturally," his hands flew up in front of him in a surrender motion, his eyes wide and that stupid, irresistable smirk on his face.

"Sure you aren't," I replied without directly focusing on him. I often had trouble showing all my cards, or approaching anything that remotely signalled to _emotional_. And, when I did, it hit me hard a like a steam engine. "But, seriously, what did you want to talk about?" I pressed.

Justin's effortless smile faded and was replaced with a grim line. Now, it was _him_ who looked uncomfortable.

"What would you think if I was falling for someone I wasn't supposed to be falling for?" He asked, unsure.

My heart skipped a beat.

It's not you, Reem. Don't get all worked up.

"Well, that depends on exactly who that is," I replied solemnly. It hurt a lot to even hear him talk about some anonymous person that wasn't quite aware of how lucky they were.

"I haven't been completely honest about the relationship between Selena and me," he said, looking away distantly at a seemingly interesting, faraway object. There was a light breeze that gently ruffled his brown hair.

"I wasn't even aware that there was some kind of relationship going on between you two," I said bitterly. My words were as cold as the frost that coated the saplings and the freshly mowed lawns. Justin obviously tasted the mingling ice and fire that burned and boiled under my skin.

"It's all a publicity stunt," Justin explained just as foully as he rotated his body towards me.

"For what reason? You can't just leave me hanging," I begged. I could support Justin, but I didn't have to support Selena.

"Our managers figured that us hanging out would bring our fans together and therefore sales of merchandise and albums go through the roof," he said, his hands flying up in the air, again. "I don't know what I'm going to do when all of this is over and I'm left waiting in their wake. I'm falling for her - _hard_, and I feel so helpless." The emptiness that filled his eyes was one thing and one thing only; _helpless._

j u s t i n

I can't believe I just admitted all of that to Remedy (yes, that's her real name) and let my walls come crashing down. But honestly, what can I do? Just disobey Scooter and do what was Number 1 on the the not to do list? Which would most likely have to be telling this girl about my true feelings. I can't even think rationally anymore.

And, apparently neither could Reem. She didn't hesitate at all; she flowed without missing a beat as she wrapped her arms around my neck. "Aww, Justin! Everything will work out in the end, I promise you!"

Reem was compassionate as can be, then again so was I. So, why was I forcing her to go through this?

"Don't make a promise you can't keep," I whispered hoarsely under my breath.

It wasn't exactly forcing her to go through anything, was it? I remember her saying to me on one of our sleepovers, when I spent the night after the tension at her house between her parents was unbearable, and she said to me that she almost liked being miserable.

_"I get this weird, strange, good feeling out of being miserable. It's sick and twisted, I know, but I don't want to get better. I'm not ordinary. It means I'm not living a boring life."_

My mind filled with images of her crying, letting loose, facing her fears. My eyes brimmed over with an insatiable urge to make all of her worries go away, no matter how hard she tried to make me feel better about mine. I was tongue-tied with words of sorrow, but unbelieveably enough, I wanted to make her feel like she could take on the world.

I loved her more than anything.

So, I pulled her even closer to me, never wanting to let her go.


	4. Chapter 4

j u s t i n

Wandering around aimlessly with Remedy in random craft stores would honestly have to be at the top of my list of things worth doing, next to being fluent in the language of love. ;)

I was dressed in a plain black t-shirt, black jeans and my favorite pair of grey Supras. Remedy was dressed in her old, worn-out Converse, jeans, a lacy white tank top with another grey one over it, and a darker grey cardigan. Her bangs were pinned out of her face, with her hair falling around her shoulders in soft waves. .com/cgi/set?id=30849273

"Hey, Reem. Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?" I asked, awkwardly shoving my hands in my pockets. She walked down an aisle that was stacked to the room with assorted, colored cardboard. I ambled past violet, magenta, baby blue, lime green, neon yellow... I wasn't paying attention to where I was headed until I crashed right into Remedy.

"No, the words never escaped your mouth," she replied emotionlessly, and her eyes moved warily to me. Her stare was naturally intense, her electric blue eyes boring deep into yours. You wanted to break the gaze, but you were virtually stuck. _Virtually._

"Well, you are. Tremendously. And, I promise to remind you every day, from now on until my heart stops beating." I closed the distance between us and attempted to hold her in my arms.

"You won't even remember my name when you're heart stops beating," she struggled with the words, as if wishing that she would never get the chance to see them come true.

Just as I neared her, she slipped wryly out of my grasp and waggled her finger at me.

"Oh, save the flirting for someone else, Bieber," Remedy cocked her head, giving me a mysterious smile.

"Why can't it be spent innocently on my _beautiful _best friend?" I retorted wittingly. She was right; what was I doing? She's my best friend for Christ's sake! Nothing more, and yet here I am, mercilessly flirting with her, when I'm supposedly attached to Selena. What. In. The. Actual. Fuck.

But, I must say, it was completely true at the same time; I might as well have fun while I'm at it, regardless of how much I might hurt later.

Remedy slowly backed away from me, and in response I followed her blindly, cornering her into the far back of the store. She stared up at me with her big, blue Bambi eyes, the expression of a startled fawn trapped in them. I leaned into her, inching closer and closer until my nose was barely pressed against hers. Unexpectedly, her breath caught and she raised her hands to gently place them against my face. Her gaze switched repeatedly from my eyes to my lips. She parted her mouth, unheard whispers leaving her tongue, ready to be pressed against my anxiously waiting mouth...

r e m e d y

You know how you have some really good guy friends who you may have kissed, once of twice, simply because or of an unknown affection for each other? Well, I've never kissed Justin, as you all may be aware, during our friendship. And, although I've dreamt of our first kiss happening in a common, random place where both of us were taken off-guard, I was not about to let him take advantage of me now, and given the opportunity to melt inside.

I guess it's going to occurr later, than sooner.

"Aww, don't tease me by making me wait," Justin practically whined, using her left hand that was resting beside my head to tuck my wavy hair behind my ear.

"But waiting for something is the best part," I smiled sheepishly, quickly pecking him on the cheek, before slinking out of his grasp, once again. He stared after me, astonished, until I ran off, disappearing in another aisle full of novelty costumes and silly objects. I didn't stop running until I heard the hurried footfalls of Justin, and decided to hide behind an assortment of naughty, provocative adult costumes, clambering onto the shelf.

I listened for the footsteps, but it was suddenly quiet. A few moments later, the one and only jumped out with a can of bright, neon-pink silly string, coating me head-to-toe with strings of foam. He was laughing manically as I cowered farther into the grey metallic shelves, crying for mercy.

"Justin! Justin, cut it out!" I screamed, trying desperately to weasel my way out of the costumes.

"NEVER!" Justin kept on laughing, never letting go of the nozzle.

"Please? Please! I'll do anything!"

Justin stopped immediately. His brows furrowed in confusion, then he face relaxed as he contemplated the different possibilites for _anything_.

"Anything? Alright, suck me off," he said. "Just kidding! Learn to take a joke. Put on that French maid costume," Justin said, he face totally serious.

My face, on the otherhand, dropped. He couldn't be legitimate, but he was. Especially when it came to a sexy French maid costume worn for a thin, small-framed adolescent girl.

"Your kidding me, right?" I questioned, while prying off sticky pieces of gross stringy foam. Did I mention it was pink? Justin knew very well that I strongly disliked _pink._

I already had the answer to my question before I even asked it though.

He was one step ahead of me; he grabbed a small costume off the rack, handing it to me without a word. He put his hands on my shoulders, spun me in the opposite direction, pushing me towards the changing rooms. I tried to resist, but my 5'5" stature was no match for his 5'8" build. I just barely cleared his shoulder.

"No way, something else," I begged.

Justin ignored me, and walked confidently up to a sales lady, politely tapping her on the back. She whirled around with a plastic smile slapped on her face, which grew even bigger and real once she realized who was bothering her. She had a tumbleweed of fire for hair, with emerald green eyes, at least mid-thirties, with a name tag that said 'DARLA :)'.

Darla opened her mouth to speak, but Justin beat her to the punch. "Hi, could we just get a dressing room for her?"

Darla glanced at Justin with a new sweet, genuine smile on her face, then glanced at me in bewilderment. I wanted to smack that stupid facial movement off her stupid, pretty face; I wanted nothing more than that. I felt a strange fire burning in the shrunken pit of my stomach to prove that I was good enough to be featured with Justin Bieber anywhere.

Or, maybe it was just proving to myself that I could not appear overweight and fat in a revealing outfit. I set my jaw, and stuck out my chin.

"For _her_? Sure, why not," Darla broke the silence.

I sneered at Justin, in an awfully nasally voice, "Yeah, why not?"

He just smiled evilly. I rolled my eyes.

'Darla' sauntered up to the almost all vacant rooms, with Justin and I trailing behind.

She stopped at Room Number Seven, jamming her key into the lock and swinging the white door ajar once it _clicked. _Darla speculated me suspiciously before reluctantly saying, "Here you go. Yell if you need any assistance." And with that, she trod off.

Making sure anybody near wasn't within earshot, I quickly smacked Justin, who was standing idly, pretty well enjoying the spectacle in front of him.

"I was not aware that a seemingly normal dollar store also specialized in an adult novelty costume department," I grumbled, analyzing meticulously the piece of skimpy, materialized outfit that any guy would only dream of his leading lady wearing.

The problem was that I was the farthest thing from Justin's leading lady. I was a best friend, at most.

"Hey, take it or leave it. I can just as easily torture you with some pathetic excuse of a party favor as I did before. Your choice," he said, his beautiful brown eyes locking onto mine in an uncomfortable way.

"Fine, fine! Don't say I didn't warn you," I said as I bustled into the changing room, slamming the door in Justin's face.

That last sentence caught him off guard. "-Wait, what?"

"The value of your virgin eyes," I called out to him as I yanked my Converse and skinny jeans off.

"Hey, I've seen more things than you have!" Justin argued, his fingers curling over the top of the door in an earnest attempt to open the locked door.

I accidently let out a startled yelp as Justin rattled the door loudly. "Justin, piss off," I warned him more calmly while I stood for the second time today in front of the mirror, in my underwear. A grim, disturbed egotistical version of me took over as I mechanically pulled on the black lacy stockings and the black polyester dress that barely covered my fat thighs. The only thing I liked about myself was my feet and hands. Because, compared to every other proportion of my body, they weren't the things that wasn't oversized or ugly.

At least the calories haven't dominated my hands or feet.

I slipped on my old Converse, just to acquire a little bit of class with an outfit as nautical as I happened to be wearing. .com/cgi/set?id=30849359

j u s t i n

I think my eyes were ready to pop out of my head, the satisfied grin on Remedy's face only added more to the urge to claw off the barely-there fabric concealing her curvy, naked body. If only...

I mentally kicked myself. How could I even think about fantasies of my best friend, half naked, in my bed, beckoning to me with every nerve-ending in my being sparking like a live wire at that irrisistable smile of hers igniting fireworks? Oh yeah, and because of this deal I have with Scooter and Selena. I say fuck the hardship.

"Damn..." Did I relly just say that in front of her?

"I call it 'Esclave Sexuelle' by Remedy," she replied jokingly, winking at me, and placing her hands on her delicate hips. "You like?" She bit on her bottom lip.

"I'm glad I attacked you with silly string. If this is the consequence, I'll buy out the whole store," I admitted complacently, and Remedy's face lit up like the midday Sun.

"Really?" She asked breathlessly, her voice soft.

"Yes. I'm buying this and silly string, pronto. Even though you don't need it to feel beautiful," I stated, reaching for her. Out of the blue, one of my personable songs came on, _Never Let You Go_, and blared through the sound system, echoing throughout the warehouse.

I noticed some parents walking impatiently past with gawking kids at their heels, some too busy to notice their kids weren't cooperating. I wanted nothing more than to stop them and talk to the kids, sign shirts, whatever, but something about the brusque-ness of the parents made me not. I'd meet those kids someday.

I turned my attention back to Remedy. "Right after you dance with me," I added to my previous statement.

"Don't I have a say at all these days?" She protested.

"You're dancing with me," I repeated as I held her small hand in mine and wrapped the other arm around her waist.

"Didn't really give me a choice there, did ya, sweetheart," Remedy said tiredly, as if reciting a hated lesson. She lifted her gaze from her feet, to my lips, to my eyes like she did before as she uneasily cupped her hand around the back of my neck.

_'It's like an angel came by, and took me to Heaven...'_

_ 'Cause when I stare in you're eyes, it couldn't be better...'_

We swayed, and I twirled her around a couple times. It wasn't quite the romantic setting that I would initially hope for, but it would have to do.

"Everybody's watching, Justin," Remedy whispered self-consciously, edging closer to me. She swallowed nervously.

"Is it bothering you?"

"No, I can deal with it," she concluded, and rested her head on my shoulder.

I seriously debated whether my friendship with Remedy was going farther than anticipated. Maybe I was getting more than just "lucky" enough to be her friend. Having her here in my arms, practically cradling her in this crowded public place, where she so willingly took the opportunity to be closer to me, despite what fans would say, and risk being captured in a picture with me by the paps.

It was evident that my feelings for Remedy were stronger than necessary.


End file.
